


Operation Pillage

by Impala_Chick



Series: GenKill Bingo [5]
Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Canon-Typical Violence, Grocery Shopping, M/M, Post-Canon, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-04 22:13:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15850455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Chick/pseuds/Impala_Chick
Summary: The apocalypse started on a Tuesday. In retrospect, Brad should have seen it coming but frankly he had been distracted by the fact that Nate asked him to move into his suburban Virginian townhome with him. Brad had been so distracted, in fact, that he’d proceeded to spend the entire weekend before the apocalypse between the sheets with Nate, doing completely unspeakable things to him, instead of watching the news and worrying about procuring the essentials necessary to survive a deadly disease outbreak. It wasn’t every weekend that he announced his retirement from the Corps, so Brad really couldn’t blame himself too harshly for the oversight.Or, how soft boyfriends survive the zombie apocalypse.





	Operation Pillage

**Author's Note:**

> For the GenKill Bingo prompt Brad/Nate + Shopping.

The apocalypse started on a Tuesday. In retrospect, Brad should have seen it coming but frankly he had been distracted by the fact that Nate asked him to move into his suburban Virginian townhome with him. Brad had been so distracted, in fact, that he’d proceeded to spend the entire weekend before the apocalypse between the sheets with Nate, doing completely unspeakable things to him, instead of watching the news and worrying about procuring the essentials necessary to survive a deadly disease outbreak. It wasn’t every weekend that he announced his retirement from the Corps, so Brad really couldn’t blame himself too harshly for the oversight.

When the CDC called for in-home quarantine, and described just how bad the disease was, the US Government rapidly signed several martial law measures. The National Guard had been called out to close down the borders, and whatever bucktoothed whiskey tango dumbfuck General was running the operation decided he needed to keep Brad and Nate from leaving the state of Virginia. 

So, Nate and Brad had decided to wait it out. 

But that was two Tuesdays ago. Nate’s house was almost completely depleted of sustenance, even though they had been careful to ration everything. They were down to one meal a day, shared. 

Brad put down his gaming controller when Nate walked into the room. Nate had been constantly on the phone or emailing people while they waited, trying to get answers or offer help. Brad had talked to his sister and his mom every day, and they were still okay, and that was going to have to be good enough for now.

Nate sank down on the couch next to Brad with a heavy sigh.

“When I said I wanted you to move in, I didn’t mean to trap you here,” Nate said without looking at Brad. 

“You mean you didn’t purposely spread a zombie virus to millions of Americans overnight while simultaneously ensuring that martial law would be declared just so I wouldn’t leave you?” Brad deadpanned. 

Nate turned to look at him, his eyes bright and the corner of his mouth turned up in semblance of a smile.

“Fine. But this still fucking sucks,” Nate said as he ran a hand through his blonde hair. Time had been crawling slowly since they’d been stuck in the apartment, but Nate’s hair was getting even longer than he normally wore it. As Brad looked at Nate he realized they really had been stuck for awhile.

“At least we still have running water. And cell phone reception. I wonder which will last longer.” Nate said the last part thoughtfully, his mind already spinning off in a million different directions. But Brad had a plan, and it did not involve single-handedly trying to save cell phone towers. Not yet, anyway. 

“We have to go shopping, Nate,” Brad said. 

“Like, at the mall? Brad, now is hardly the time,” Nate joked. Brad shook his head, his hand on Nate’s knee.

“We need food. And we are in downtown Arlington. There is no way we are going to find any big game outside. But there are grocery stores.”

Nate moved away from Brad’s touch and stood up, agitated.

“What are you proposing?” Nate’s voice was measured, considering.

Brad stood up. “We should grab non-perishables, dried beans, rice, powdered eggs, as many cans as we can carry. We could make a list of everything we take, so we could pay it back when this is over. We can’t just wait around -”

Nate cut him off with a curt nod of his head.

“I agree that we need more provisions. The stores might have already been looted, but we will have to see what’s left. We need some sort of weapons to carry, because I only have a faint idea of what it’s going to be like out there, but I have a feeling it’s not going to be your average Thursday morning stroll.” Nate stalked out of the room, his mind made up. Brad was glad they hadn’t needed to argue about it. But once a Marine, always a Marine. Nate might have been a civilian for over ten years now, but he still understood the necessity of prioritizing food at a time like this.

“Solid copy.” Brad slapped Nate’s ass as he followed him into the kitchen, presumably to look through their knife collection for the sharpest ones. They hadn’t left the house in 9 days, and Brad was more than ready to take the risk now.

\---

They had their large green duffels emptied out and strapped to their backs. Brad had made a makeshift thigh holster out of a black leather belt, a cell phone holder, and duct tape. He had two of their largest kitchen knives strapped into it, and could feel their weight resting against his left thigh reassuringly. He had his swiss army knife in his right pocket, and a very heavy mag light thrust into his belt. Nate had his composite softball bat against his back, held in place by his duffel. He had his swiss army knife, too. Brad had already ribbed him for not keeping a pistol around, but Nate had countered that zombies were not likely capable of using a firearm anyway. Brad would have given almost anything to have an M16 with him, but he hadn’t made it a habit to travel on leave with Marine Corps weaponry. 

While Brad stood in the foyer, his heart started to pound and his skin started to tingle with the anticipation of a fight. He felt satisfied that they had scoured the house and now carried with them the most practical weaponry. He nodded at Nate, and stepped towards the door.

Before Brad could open it, Nate grabbed his arm and stopped him from charging through. He stared up at Brad, his blue eyes piercing and deadly serious. 

“Listen to me, Brad. Whatever you do, do not let them bite you.”

“Stay frosty,” Brad agreed. And then they were out the door. 

Nate locked up as Brad kept watch, his hand hovering over his makeshift thigh holster. Nate pocketed the keys and then they started down the Virginia sidewalk side by side, eyes constantly scanning their sectors. 

It was too quiet. There were no other people out, even though it was the middle of a fine late summer day. The air was sticky with humidity but not quite unbearable. Brad’s olive green t-shirt was already sticking to his skin. His whole body felt tense and ready to spring into action, but the street looked normal.

“Isn’t this weird?” Nate asked in an undertone. 

“Well, there is a quarantine order in place,” Brad pointed out. 

“Yeah, but I would have thought -” Nate didn’t get to finish his thought, because Brad saw something out of the corner of his eye and pushed Nate behind him. It was the shape of a person, but it was eerily still. 

“At our 3 o’clock. Someone watching,” Brad explained quietly. 

Brad crept forward slowly, Nate right behind him. The person was standing behind a shrub in the front yard of a brick Virginia townhome. He appeared to be a male, about 5’9”, with a pale face and dark brown, shaggy hair. Brad couldn’t see his hands, but he still wasn’t moving. Brad wasn’t sure whether they should keep walking, but Nate made the decision for him.

“How’s it going, neighbor!” Nate called out as he stepped out from behind Brad. The man blinked, and then slowly turned his head toward where Nate and Brad stood. His eyes looked vacant, like he was sleepy or dazed. His skin looked damp and unnaturally stretched across his face. Brad felt thoroughly creeped out.

The man seemed to contemplate his answer for a moment before opening his mouth. 

“I don’t remember how I got here.” The words ran together as he spoke, and his voice was rough and grating. 

“Keep walking, Brad,” Nate said under his breath. Brad did as he was told, but he kept his eyes on the strange man. The neighbor didn’t turn to watch them leave, though. He just stayed put, staring off into space. 

He looked like the newly diseased people they had shown on the news, with his vacant eyes, memory loss, and shiny, translucent skin. He must have recently been bitten. 

“There’s nothing we can do for him?” Brad asked after they had walked about 5 blocks in silence.

“No, Brad. Not yet, anyway,” Nate said grimly.

They made it to the grocery store without seeing anyone else. 

There were some cars in the parking lot, but no movement. They walked right up to the sliding glass doors, and they slid open automatically. The smell of rotting fruit wafted out. 

Nate looked at Brad and touched the baseball bat strapped to his back, as if to assure himself it was there. “Okay, I’ll head left and you start on the right. We can meet in the middle.”

“While I appreciate your can-do attitude and your self-sufficiency, we are sticking together,” Brad said in a tone that he hoped invited no argument. 

Nate looked up at him with his eyebrow raised, like he was debating whether to protest, when Brad saw something move at his 1 o’clock. 

“Get down!” 

Nate ducked, and Brad grabbed a knife from his holster and threw it at the figure bearing down on them. It turned over in the air and then struck the man that had been running towards Nate. The man crumpled to the ground without making a sound, and Nate stood up from his crouch and shot Brad a look before turning around. 

They both walked over to the body cautiously, and Brad moved the man’s leg with his boot. No movement. He could see the knife sticking out of the man’s chest, and a small trickle of blood oozed out from the wound to stain his plaid shirt. The man’s eyes were open and vacant. 

Brad’s blood was pumping like crazy from the adrenaline rush, and he felt amped up. He hadn’t felt that way in awhile, not since he’d finished teaching jump school. Now that he knew the threat to Nate had been neutralized, he relished the feeling. 

“Fine, we’ll stick together. Show-off,” Nate said, with just a hint of pride in his voice. Nate looked up at Brad then and smiled, the kind of smile where you could see the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes. Somehow, the lines just made Nate look more refined. 

“What do you think he would have done to us?” Brad asked, before he said anything inappropriately intimate given the situation.

“The reports say people who are overcome by the virus just attack people, try to eat flesh. We saw that one clip they kept playing on CNN. Maybe it would have been like that,” Nate said somberly.

Brad nodded. He remembered that clip. A woman with pale skin and matted hair had jumped on a child and bit his arms and legs. There was blood everywhere when a man finally pulled the woman off. The video had made Brad sick the first time he saw it.

They proceeded down the produce aisle. Even though they walked quietly and carefully, Brad could still feel Nate’s presence at his back. 

Most of the produce was rotted, and flies were crawling all over the decaying fruit. They moved on quickly before Brad’s sense of smell was completely destroyed.

They made it to the back of the store, and Brad started to grab some of the bags of chips from the end cap.

“Hey, the dairy actually looks fine!” Nate sounded triumphant as he pulled a milk carton out of the refrigerator and popped it open to smell it. Nate smiled, so clearly the milk was fine. The power was still on, and the milk would have been kept cold, so it made sense. Brad watched him, grinning as he dug through the milk cartons to find the ones with expiration dates that hadn’t passed. 

After Nate grabbed two cartons, they proceeded up the other aisles and grabbed cans, dried food, cereal, rice, and spices until their duffles were full. Parts of the store did look picked through, and the candy and soda aisles were all empty.

Brad shook his head when they made it back to the front of the store.

“They prioritized the wrong things,” Nate agreed when he noticed Brad staring at the row of shelves where the candy bars used to be, at the checkout counter.

“Maybe we should leave some of this for others?” Brad asked as he looked back at the store they had just pillaged. 

Nate paused for a moment before he replied. “We left plenty, I think.”

Brad tried to open a cash register, and found that the money drawer was already broken. Its contents had been emptied out, except for a blue pen. Which is what Brad had been looking for anyway. Nate had a puzzled look on his face but said nothing.

Brad grabbed the sheet of coupons that was still taped to the cashier’s computer screen, and scrawled “THANK YOU” in blue block letters in between two coupons. Brad looked up to see Nate smiling at him, looking a little in awe, and Brad’s heart stuttered a little. Brad rolled his eyes to cover for the rush of feelings, and dropped the pen back into the drawer. 

“Sometimes I forget that you are both a cold-blooded killer and a giant softie,” Nate commented as they stepped over the man Brad had killed and walked out the front door. They both pulled their duffels onto their backs.

“Likewise,” Brad shot back. “I think that was the funnest grocery shopping trip I’ve ever had the pleasure of embarking on. No other people to deal with.”

“Unless you count the one zombie,” Nate reminded him. Brad laughed then, and Nate gently grabbed his arm to turn his body. 

“This was fun,” Nate said softly. And then he was on his tiptoes to press his lips to Brad’s. He nipped at Brad’s bottom lip before pulling back. Brad’s blood started to pump frantically again, but for a completely different reason. 

“We really should get going,” Nate drawled as he started walking. He looked over his shoulder to give Brad a downright wicked grin. Clearly, someone was in a good mood. 

Brad watched him walk for a moment, before he remembered to go back for the knife. He pulled it out of the dead man’s chest, still not quite comfortable calling him a zombie. He wiped the blood on the man’s jeans, and then slipped the knife into his holster again. 

Nate had waited for him, and Brad bumped his shoulder. As they started to walk home, Brad’s body was alert for threats as he constantly scanned the perimeter, but Nate slipped his hand into Brad’s anyway. Brad let him.


End file.
